Spawn Of a Phantom
by SilverMoonPhantom
Summary: In the future, Samantha has a daughter. What happens when Sam's little girl discovers she has supernatural powers?Then is thrown into the past by Deseree?Can she figure out how to get back to her own time before she perminately alters the timeline?
1. Demetra

Beep….beep…Beep Beep Beep BEEP BEEP! **BEEP! BE--**

Slender fingers gently pressed the 'snooze' button, receding back into the warm sanctuary that had been created under the comforter. A soft moan broke the warm silence, oddly shaped lump under heavy blankets wriggling around for a moment before pushing away the covers to reveal a young teenage girl, blinking sleepily.

Her skin was a little paler than would be expected for a girl of her age and physical activity, but her mother never seemed to mind.

Yawning quietly, she pushed herself upright, ebony hair cascading about her shoulders, the faint silver sheen barely evident under the faint yellow light seeping in under her shutters. Her dark blue eyes swept wearily over her plain, off-white walls and a carven oak dresser that stood in one corner. Silver trinkets and thin chains glinted slightly, illuminated in the eerie green globe that hung from her ceiling.

It was really only a light bulb encased in translucent emerald rubber, but it gave the effect desired. That being to cast her seemingly plain room into a supernatural aura. For some reason, the Fourteen year old had a strange obsession with the supernatural, something her mom claimed to be 'a trait of the family.' Somehow, Dema didn't believe her. The woman was as normal as could be… well, aside from the weird room that she was never permitted to enter. She had said that was her husband's room… like a workplace, and no one was supposed to go in, no matter what the emergency. It was always locked anyway (And yes, she had tried getting in. The dumb room had no windows, and the door seemed to be locked in more than one place on the inside )

Speaking of her father…

No matter how hard she tried, Dema could never really speak with him. He only came home on weekends, and only stayed in the house for a few hours early in the morning. Even then, he always seemed to be running off somewhere.

Demetra slipped out of bed about an hour earlier than was normal for her, bare feet nearly silent on the off-white carpet. She slipped some baggy pants over her long legs, slipping into a loose-fitting black tee shirt with white-edged sleeves.

She tread across her room, eyes having already adjusted to the cool darkness that permeated the area. Her fingers quickly found a thin chain-link belt, slipping it through the loopholes around her waist, and fastening it with a few deft movements.

She glanced toward her window, watching the age-old tree behind her house scratch gently against the glass. Nodding absently to the tree's withered fingers, she turned her back on her sleeping place; andmoved to step daintilytoward the staircase. Her black choker was loosely fastened about her throat, the green emerald embedded in it glinting faintly.

Demetra sighed, her soft breath oddly visible, slightly bluish. She stared at the place where she had seen it, tilting her head to the side in interest. Shrugging off the weird chill that had fluttered up her spine, she exited her room, picking at a flaw on her chain belt while heading toward the stairs. Her slender fingers trailed down the carven oak rail, only half listening to her mom's voice on the ground floor.

Suddenly, Dema stopped, frozen like a deer in the headlights of a car. Another voice had replied to her mother's soft tones, obviously male. Dozens of worries sweapt over the teen, her movement switching automatically into stealth mode. Her muscles were tense as she slid silently down the rest of the stairs, hands loosely balled into fists, ears and eyes open. Reaching the bottom step, she carefully slid over it, avoiding the creaky spot and stalking over the hardwood floor toward the kitchen.

She often wondered why her mother had chosen medieval weaponry as a style of décor for this wing of the house, but was now quite grateful. Pressing her body against the wall just outside the doorway, she glanced up to assure herself the swords were still there, and crouched down to eavesdrop.

"Her grades are slipping… She just cant seem to pay attention in class. I took her to a psychatris- No, her name was NOT spectra. I know just as well as you- Sorry. The dude said she was perfectly normal, if not a little distracted. She keeps asking questions"

Trust her mom to call a well-known psychiatrist 'dude'. Honestly, that woman had the linguistic skills of someone from the nineteen sixties. Choosing to ignore the choice of words, dema leaned toward the doorway a bit, noting a rather strange feature…

"Questions about me?

There was that voice again! It sounded painfully familiar, though rather warped, as if it had an echo interwoven into its regular sound.

Her mother must have nodded the answer, for the voice began again. It gave her chills to hear it, but she couldn't seem to stop listening. Dema lifted her hand, brushing a few locks of her ebony hair back behind her ear, muscles starting to ache from being tense so long in this position.

"I will try and talk to her. In human form, of course. If she wont believe me, you can show her the photos."

Dema stopped short. 'Human form?' her thoughts were interrupted as the voice began again, sounding almost hopeful.

"Has she shown any signs of powers?"

"Neh… Not klutzy or nervous or anything. Just distracted."

Taking a deep breath, Demetra finalized her decision. She leaned to the side; peeking around the corner, jaw dropping in shock.

The entire room was bathed in an eerie white glow, apparently emanating from the figure near its center. Her mother had her arms draped around the man's shoulders, violet eyes gazing fondly at his face.

Dema couldn't see his face, but the fact her mother was gazing with such love at some strange male made her want to scream and puke at the same time. Something else caught her attention.

His feet weren't touching the ground. Their booted surfaces were floating an inch or so above the floor, slightly silvery in their own glow. His gloves were also platinum white, one hand curved around her mom's hip.

Without thinking, the fourteen year old clenched her jaw, leaping upward and ripping the sword from its showcase sheath. Leaping into the room, she dimly registered that the white-haired man was leaning forward to kiss her mother before she rushed forward, uttering a warlike cry of rage.

Adrenaline pumped through her veins, the silver blade ripping through the air to slam heavily against the side of the man's skull. He toppled off to the side, slamming against the wall in apparent surprise. The small cut across his temple mended itself in front of her disbelieving eyes, his own green eyes reproachful as he rose to his feet, eyeing the girl's samurai stance warily. He looked well-muscled, but not body-builder like, more just something he did for exercise.

Demetra lunged forward again, snarling in anger. Somehow, the blade just passed through his form, small tendrils of his being yanked off by the swiftly moving sword. They were quickly assimilated back into his body, melding back into the black outfit. She glared at the blazing white symbol on his chest… It looked like a black P inside of a white D… If you had turned it on its side, it almost looked like a pac-man ghost.

She growled as arms appeared at her sides, forcing her to drop the sword. Quite confused on the reason her mother had chosen this of all times to go against her, dema lashed out with both feet, nailing the startled man in the stomach before falling to on her rear due to lack of support.

"Relax!"

Her mother's voice was loud in her ear, and she slowly complied, baring her teeth in a feral challenge. The iron grip slowly released her forearms, leaving the teen to mutter incoherent curses, glaring sullenly at the tiled floor.

That creepy chill lanced up her spine, and she whipped her gaze upward, only to stumble backward as she found the man's face alarmingly close to her own. His glowing green eyes were curiously searching, not at all hostile despite the obvious attempt on his life.

He grinned , floating slightly higher.

"You were right, She is a lot like me."

With that, he turned around and sped upward through the air, disappearing through the ceiling. A moment of silence ensued, before the enormity of what happened hit the teen full in the face.

Ripping herself away from her mother, she turned to face the amused face with a passionate rage that surprised even her.

"How could you do that!"

Her voice rang through the house, probably down the street as well. However, her mother did nothing to stop the piercing accusations, velvet eyes wide with astonishment. The newly kindled fury in the girl did not die with the first scream, only growing fiercer.

"How could you betray me and dad to that… THING!"

Her mother's face looked hurt, lips thinning into a frown. She opened her mouth to say something, but stopped herself, aware of the light dancing around her daughter's clenched fists.

Dema whirled away from the startled woman, storming back up the stairs, flitting up the ladder to their attic, oblivious to the scorch marks her hands made on the thick wood.

Her mother slowly inhaled, hand trembling as she flipped open the cellular phone recently taken from the counter. Hesitating for a moment, she quickly dialed a series of numbers, placing it to her ear and wrapping her free hand across her own waist. The receiver picked up, and before they could even say hello, she butted in.

"Tucker? Its Sam… tell Danny to come back. She does have them"

Without another word, she hung up, glancing down at where a rug once lay.

There was now nothing but a roughly circular layer of ash.


	2. Phantomess

CHAPTER 2 

Demetra fled to the attic, locking the trap door from the inside and turning on the light. The room was carpeted with thick, purple material that warmed one's feet after a split second of contact. The walls were painted black, with strange, dark green swirls drifting across the arched ceiling. In the far corner of the room was a pair of huge, navy-blue bean bags, and a miniature refrigerator stocked with every assortment of junk foods for the rare occasions that her few friends came over.

On the side of the room were scattered portraits of close family and friends, moments of time plastered on the walls with tape, or framed and officially hung. The largest portrait was about a foot across, sporting the image of a teenage boy, captured at an odd angle. Almost a bird's eye view, but tilted haphazardly to let him gaze mischievously up at whoever was taking the picture. He was dressed in simple jeans and a red and white tee shirt, messy black hair obscuring one eye, but failing to cover the look of amusement his playful smirk implied.

Dema sighed, crossing the room in a few long strides and plopping down in the bean bag. For a while she merely sat and fumed, head pounding with her own heartbeat, now that the rustling of plastic beans had stopped.

A mirror laid behind the two beanbags, about body height and good for checking one's looks before stalking back downstairs after a good cry. Or rant. Or emotional outburst of any kind.

Demetra ran her fingers through long ebony hair, thinking about the strange glowing man who had made her so angry that she hadn't thought clearly. He tried to kiss her mom! KISS! HER FREAKING MOM!

She gave an involuntary shudder, standing upright and gazing at the mirror.

Something was wrong….

Her brain took a minute before realizing what she was seeing. Her footprints in the carpet where she was standing…but no her. It was if she was invisible.

Dema let out another ear-piercing shriek, leaping backward in fright, tripping over her own feet. She clutched the thick purple carpet as if it were her only lifeline, knuckles white.

She stared at the mirror again, shaken, but thankful that her reflection was present once again. Closing her eyes and releasing the carpet from a death hold, she inhaled slowly, standing upright.

This day just seemed to get better and better.

A tingling sensation along her stomach forced her to open her eyes, half expecting herself to be waking up from a strange nightmare with her mom tickling her belly with the feather duster.

Confusion and panic swept over her again… Everything looked so freaking **SMALL!**

She glanced toward the mirror once again, unable to see herself.

Wait…

Her eyes slowly traveled up the reflective surface, locking onto the image of her own feet.

Two Meters above the floor.

Perhaps these were the powers her mother mentioned?

Demetra wobbled, feeling much weaker. After a second of struggling to stay in the air, she collapsed back to the floor, stumbling backwards and landing on her back. Trying to ignore the pain on her bruised shoulder blade, she withdrew unto her mind, oddly calm now that she accepted the fact she was graced with supernatural abilities.

Hair spread out on the carpet in a half-circle around her head, she stared at the ceiling, dark eyes flooded with emotion.

Mostly confusion, a bit of curiosity and..well... confusion.

_I need figure out how I got these powers. And who that jerk was._

_My mom said to never wish for anything. Something about a ghost…._

Sam had ascended the stairs, flitting up the ladder and attempting to open the trapdoor. She frowned in dismay at finding her daughter had locked it from within. She rapped sharply on the wood, calling out.

"Dema! I'm sorry about that. Please come down… I need to tell you something"

The teen jumped at the first knock, but turned her head to glare at the hatch's surface.

She had made her decision.

Dearly hoping she was right about the wish-granting ghost, dema walked nervously over to the single window that graced the dark walls, pulling back the shudders and opening the thick glass.

A cool breeze wafted over her face, brushing a few strands of her dark hair out of her face as the female leaned out, taking a deep breath.

"I WISH I COULD GO BACK IN TIME, TO MEET MY DAD, SO HE CAN HELP ME WITH MY POWERS"

Silence ensued, a few people looking up at her from the street below, quizzical and amused at the same time.

Dema's face flushed, and she ducked back into the room, feeling mortified and thankful at the same time. So the whole ghost thing wasn't real?

That still didn't help her deal with the whole glowing dude.

Dude? OH CRAP! She was starting to talk like her mom!

Demetra moaned in exasperation, flopping back into the beanbag. The crunching had barely stopped when her dark eyes flitted toward the window in alarm. She had forgotten to close it, and eerie green smoke had begun to seep through the opening.

It twisted and writhed upon itself, glowing faintly. It rose upward, imploding to create a female figure, dark hair covering one eye. Her wicked grin did nothing to calm dema's frightened state of mind.

"Ahh… Phantom's girl. I wondered why I recognized that voice"

Her purring voice sent a strong shiver upthe girl'sspine, her breath visible as a blue wisp.

The gene-looking ghost smirked in some strange amusement.

"And you inherited his abilities. This will be interesting…. "

Deseree flung her hand toward the frightened teen, a green aura surrounding her figure, lifting her into the air.

"Your desire is my command, Phantomess.. So you have wished it"

The girl started to fade from sight, darkness clouding her vision. The scream that she had previously bit back was now released in full force, terror evident.

As the last of her form vanished, and her mind was just about to collapse into darkness, she heard a cruelly amused voice echo around her skull.

"And so It shall be"

Her conscious mind was no more.


	3. Hate in sapphire eyes

**I apologize to all of my readers so far, three and hope you forgive me. However, Dema is seeing red, and will use language not suitable for those under the age of 17 to use. **

**Apologies**

**-Adrianna-

* * *

**

"Is she going to pull out?"

I don't know"

Do you think she can get better?"

"If her coma doesn't get worse, probably"

"Can we see her?"

A long silence let her relax a bit, before annoyance lifted her mind once more.

"Yes…But don't be long. I don't know how she will cope with loud noises."

"Don't worry, We will be quiet."

The sound of a door opening and closing, footsteps causing her to stir slightly, blissfully unaware of what had happened, memory rejecting what had happened. The thick scent of hospital sanitizer hit her full in the face, but she did not react, perfectly content to ignore the smell and sleep.

"Danny… Are you sure this is the best idea? Overshadowing may be able to heal Jazz, but you don't know what it will do to someone with a head injury."

An Aura of cold washed over the girl, despite being under blankets. She shifted in annoyance, ignorant to the fact she had been in a coma for the last few hours, after popping up in mid air, and falling two stories.

Thank God for well-placed pools.

Cold swept over her body, coming from the hand that had been placed on her forehead. Dema tried to move away, though she found she was still weak from whatever had happened. All she managed was a futile twitch to the side.

"I have to help her somehow."

Demetra's back arched upward, inhaling sharply as her dark eyes snapped open. She let out a feral snarl, closing her eyes and focusing on the intruding spirit.

She quickly identified the invader, attacking it with all the fierceness she could muster. Her body felt cold, but she ignored the discomfort, banishing the invader from her system. A yelp of protest met her ears, as well as a loud /thunk/ as someone was thrown bodily against the wall.

"Danny!"

There was that voice again! Who was that?

Demetra tried sitting upright, finding her stomach muscles unable to function properly. So, she rolled to the side, nearly toppling an IV stand before being able to sit upright.

Glancing distastefully at the cold white décor, she turned her navy eyes toward the startled threesome.

One of them was just getting to his feet, staring at her in shock. He possessed electric blue eyes and jet black hair, the strands nearly covering one eye. Just like the portrait.

Just like her father as a teen.

* * *

A few seconds later, nurses were filing into the room, ushering the three teenagers out with clearly startled faces. 

They offered no resistance, though the blue-eyed male glanced at her as he exited, shock and confusion still plain on his face.

A few hours and several painful, made-up-on-the-spot explanations later, Demetra was excused from the hospital. Though they were still quite suspicious, they accepted her phone number and address, not realizing they were invalid. (From the future)

Dema exited the hospital gladly, bare feet carefully avoiding sticks and slivers of mulch from the gardens lining their sidewalk. She sighed, looking around warily for any sign of the black-haired teen or his companions. Generally ignoring the rest of Amity Park's occupants, it came as a great shock when she found herself walking down main street, with a box flying through the air, toward her. It was cardboard, surrounded with eerie green energy and traveling rather quickly for comfort.

The fact it was a flying box only registered dimly on her chart of 'what is that'. She was rather more concerned that it was close to smashing into her, and took action without thinking properly. Her fist lashed out with a speed that surprised her, slashing across the surface of the box, and ripping a hole in its side.

It fell to the ground, slumping to the side.

"NO! I am the Box ghost! Master of all things cardboard and square! How dare you defile one of these square containers!"

Demetra looked toward the man who said this, curious at why he was so freaked out about her smashing a box. His blue skin seemed to glow somewhat, pale eyes frustrated and concerned at the same time. The box ghost floated toward the box, muttering incoherent curses while examining the limp form. He turned toward Dema, who was standing silently in observation.

She flinched as he lifted his arms, shouting, "BEWARE!"

A brilliant flash of light, and the specter was sent tumbling across the pavement, smoking faintly. "For once, could you please STAY in the ghost zone?"

A black and white blur shot past her field of vision, its turbulence causing her to stumble forward a few steps. By the time she regained her balance, a cone of blue-tinted light had enveloped this… box ghost… and was sucking him into a cylindrical container crisscrossed with technology.. Her dark eyes flashed with recognition, and rage quickly flared up within her chest.

"You!" She snarled, clenching her fists in anger. The white-haired teen turned around to gaze at her warily, glowing green eyes flickering with curiosity. The white insignia on his chest affirmed her pervious conclusion, and the image of an older him leaning down toward her mother.

"You _BASTARD_!" She leapt toward him, rage activating her powers.

Her slender form darted forward faster than the eye could see, her long fingernails raking across his chest and face before he could react. He yelped in pain, shooting into the sky, a look of relief plain on his face when he found she could not follow him into the air.

She lashed her hand out, summoning the strange energy that she had sensed while shouting at her mom.

A thick whip of purple light was flung toward the ghost boy, his relief shifting to fright as it snapped around him, the chilling energy rope jerked him down from the sky, slamming him into the street below, a crackle of energy lancing twixt its strands.

His bright green eyes closed as he yelled in pain, back arching in a quick spasm.

The ropes dissipated, and he gazed upward, still laying on the street, struggling to recover from the shock. He gasped softly at the sight that met his eyes, not yet accustomed to having such hate directed at him.

Her dark blue eyes smoldered with utter loathing at his prone form, balled fist emitting lilac sparks every few moments. The faint breeze that stirred around her caused the ebony locks of hair fall in front of her face, time being counted in seconds.

She did nothing to him, combating the thought within. This boy trespassed, and nearly performed a crime punishable by utter obliteration… Yet now he was helpless….scared. And he didn't know why she was angry.

Dema jerked her head up when she heard the sound of something charging behind her, whirling around, only to be hit squarely by the blue beam of the fenton thermos. She shrieked in anger, her image distorted as the cone of light sucked her into the cylinder.

"Thanks"

"No problem… " Sam pushed some of her hair out of her violet eyes, glancing down at the thermos.

"Was I imagining things, or was that girl the one who had appeared out of thin air, and fell on top of you."

"The one that went into a coma for three hours, and expelled me like it was nothing?"

Sam nodded, ignoring his attitude.

"I think so… She had the same aura."

Phantom had transformed back into his human form, the brilliant circles of light washing over his white and black-clad form, replacing the hazmat outfit with a white and red tee shirt and baggy jeans. His unruly white hair shifted to black, still stubbornly falling over one of his electric blue eyes.


	4. Lobsters?

The three teens soon stood outside Danny's house; a large building topped with a strange metal contraption and a brilliant neon sign sporting the words "Fenton Works". Most visitors said it reminded them of a classic UFO, with the gadgets and telescopes stuck out from the odd metallic surface.

Thankfully, Danny's sister, Jazz, was at the library and his parents were trying to hunt a specter on the other side of Amity Park. They entered the house, traipsing through the kitchen, and down a darkened staircase.

"Hey Tuck, think you could get the lights?"

His dark-skinned compodre smiled mischievously, his blue-green eyes darting around before he replied.

"Depends… do you have any light-capturing gear around?"

Both Danny and Sam stopped, looking back at him quizzically. Sam suddenly groaned, slapping her forehead with her palm. She grumbled incoherent insults at the boy, before brushing past Danny toward the lab. The raven-haired boy merely lifted one eyebrow, folding his arms.

"Have you taken your medication today?" His manner was serious, but his pale blue eyes twinkled with jest.

Tucker turned around, fingers searching for the light switch when he replied slowly, drawing out the word to make it sound playful.

"Maaayyybeee….."

Danny snorted in suppressed laughter, jumping down the last half dozen steps to land catlike on the basement floor. Rising up from the crouch, he let his eyes adjust to the recently activated lights, turning to watch tucker descend down the steps in the proper fashion. His pallid blue eyes were turned to the fenton portal, sweeping over the hexagonal frame and black-and-orange stripes that covered the door.

He slung the thermos off from his shoulder, taking off the cap and sticking it into a circular fastener on the side panel of the portal. Danny pressed the release button, watching uninterestedly as the captured spirits swirled around for a moment on the surface, before being sent back to the ghost zone.

The teen carefully kept the bizarre ghost inside of the Fenton thermos, snapping it off the releasing pod before she could escape. He capped it again, looking around. Sure enough, Sam had already retrieved the Fenton lobster pot. It was a strange circular device, fashioned off a real lobster pot. A ghost could be sent in, but could not get out.

Sam crouched down, pressing a button on the gadget's side.

From within a diminutive projector, a hollow orb of blue energy sprang forth, about the size of a refrigerator, and elongated at the top. Thin ribbons of light constantly leapt in and out of the ellipse, like a model of the sun.

Danny approached the orb cautiously, sticking the Fenton thermos just a few inches inside the FLP. 'Release' flashed briefly in bold red letters on the thermos's small screen, a dark form issuing into the containment area. Her eyes blazed with green light, her teeth bared once more in defiance. Neon gaze swept over the surrounding area, taking in the yellow-striped doors of the closed ghost portal, and the three teens. Her gaze lingered on the female, jade eyes flickering down in passion. However, once they landed upon the blue-eyed male, the look on her face changed to curiosity to plain confusion.

She had finally deciphered that something was definitely NOT right.

That girl looked too much like her mother, and the boy wearing the cap was freaky-close to her mom's closest friend, Tucker.

Demetra jerked back, suddenly being washed over by the enormity of what she had done. She now remembered her foolish wish, and the darkness that accompanied it.

So she really did go back in time?

"Ah"

Demetra slumped back, sustained within the containment device,staring at the celing while vaugly wondering how she was supposed to get back to her own present. Sure, this was reallycool and all, but she really didn't know what had happened recently, if anything she was going to say would change the future or if she had already whiped out her own existence.

Scary thought right there...

She brushed a few strands of dark hair from her eyes, relaxing and letting the ghostly energy drain from her slender form. The onlooking teens gasped as she fell right down through the energy barrier, landing heavily on the ground. Apparently, it was designed for ghosts...not humans.

Sam was the first to take action, grabbing one of the ecto-weapons from a nearby table and pressing down the button. Green foam spurted out the gun, hitting Demetra full in the face.

She toppled over backwards, coughing angrily and attempting to whipe the goo from her eyes. When she finally did, her dark gaze shot upward, quite disgruntled at getting that nasty bubbling gunk in her hair. She came face-to-face with the fenton thermos, the blue glow painfully bright in her eyes,

Sam pushed the button...

and again.

and again.

Nothing happened!

The vegitarian goth growled in anger, chucking the thermos over her shoulder and looking for another weapon.

Tucker stood silently, mostly in shock.

Danny raked his fingers through dark hair, jumping forward to stop sam before she blasted the girl with the fenton Bazooka. At point-blank range. His blue eyes landed on dema's still-crouched form, finding something eerily familiar about her...something that he just could not place.

He opened his mouth, asking quietly

"Who_ are_ you?"

* * *

**I dearly apologize for all of the horrbile writing... I forced myself to write this, since I really wasnt going anywhere...atall. **

**If anyone has plot ideas, or just story or scene Ideas, please dont hesitate to let me know. I hit a roadblock.**


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